"The worst day of my life was when a friend returned from a Polish village in 1943. . 'I saw your sister killed by the Nazis. The storm troopers threw her baby against a wall. She ran to pick it up. They shot her in the head...But you must promise not to tell yoour parents. It would kill them."
Today, the first day after Christmas, Lady Barbara did not appear. I hope she didn't fall down or something bad happened to her.
I will try to paraphrase what Horst said at Table Five without interrupting him, this time. Like myself, he plays with words. No matter what I tell him, he replies with a smarter answer.
"Horst, I wonder why you survived while the other 4000 German Jews in Camp Buna didn't?"
"Let me tell you something. I belonged to a Maccabees Club in Essen Germany. In my early teens, I won matches in wrestling, boxing, soccer, and even bicycle racing. Those many awards and trophies I lost when the Nazis removed me and my family to a Camp Auschwitz.
'The only award in my house is one for the 'Biggest mouth in the South Bay.'
"My Dad ran an office equipment shop in Essen Germany. For his hobby, he went to toy shows. He had no interest in sports, like me. I also was a boy scout leader."
"Our group went skying in the Alps many times. The ski's were made of wood then. The only time trees grew was in the winter. Let me explain. The best skiers skied at the beginning of the line. I had to look behind to make sure nobody fell. When I looked back, a tree often hit me. Now that tree hadn't been there before...Get it?...And never did I ever have a broken bone."
At that point, Marcia interrupted. "This is my last meal with you guys. Happy New Year." Marcia had been a member of Table Five now for one month. The retired psychologist from the Old Pepperdine, Los Angeles Campus. needs to be careful on what she eats. The pork and beans were served up.
"Horst, my rabbi does not like me. He knows I eat pig food."
"Your not the only one. When my rabbi found out I lived on Buckingham, he kicked me out of the synagogue."
"I want to tell you something George. A girl on the bus did not wish to know about Auschwitz. I felt like kicking her in her ass, but I did not wish to dirty my shoes"
"I forgot to tell you I learned to made pastries when I worked in an Esson Bakery."(In the new year, I will publish his book, "I want to tell you something...)
At 88 years of age, he is probably the only one still alive from his camp in Auschwitz. The camp housed over 4000 inmates. He is still five feet something, with an indelible smile and wide grin for anyone within hearing distance.
He eats only a salad and dresses impeccably. Whereas Babe Ruth was the Sultan of Swat, Horst Cahn is the greatest player of words. He has the right words for every question.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
A Belmont Shores Christmas
"Nothin could be fina then to cruise on a Amatrak lina in the mor-r-r-nin"
The lyrics to the song are almost finished and the melody is from another song about South Carolina. Sorry reader for this spurt, but I love the San Diego rails. I never know what my mind will hum on a different track.
Today is Christmas Day -- the day Baby Jesus was born. It is the day Jesus was born. I would celebrate it by visiting my two daughters in Belmont Shores, California. The Amtrak eight o'clock special awaited me. This was Christmas. My gifts were Allison and Olivia. Allison would be opening packages for the first time
I left my humble cell at the Broadway 'Y' at about eight o'clock. I had a breakfast of leftover beans, a toasted jam spread, and two seven eleven bleached bananas. I walked over to the Sana Fe Station and heard the #567 bellow, "Merry Xmas George, glad you made it to 74."
My Compass Pass was good on this Amtrak. It took about thirty minutes to arrive at the Encinitas Station where I had parked my car. I followed a line of about fifteen onto a back car. My Coaster pass was my ticket to the Encinitas Commuter parking lot. My little compact Dolly waited for me there.
My car asked me it needed more water and gas. The Vallejo Gas Station took care of her needs, and she jumped on the five towards Long Beach to the beat of a Chopin tape. I arrived there at nine o'[clock and saw the most beautiful sight. I walked across Park Avenue to their dwelling.
A Lovely Olivia pushed her face up against the dining room window. She spotted me and gave me such a smile my legs wilted. Derik opened the door. At the dining room table sat my number one daughter with the three year old, Allison.
A too busy Allison was sucking Mom's bottle milk. Her blue eyes were closed to enjoy the white juice. Then she laid eyes on me. For a few moments, her eyes wavered.
At first, she didn't know what to make of me. Then a genuine smile covered her face and the bottle fell. Olivia, with her brand new blue dress came up to me.
" Grandad, look what I got." She showed me two small figurine horses. "They are beautiful aren't they?"
"This is her first Christmas where Alison would open up her presents. We bought her a bike at Target." replied her Dad Derik.
My daughter and Derik looked exhausted. And they should have been. All Day, My poor daughter had been pumping milk all day. Baby Allison had slept for only two hours at a time.
I went to Main Street for pick up. We had a chicken, rice and a kit more for lunch. I filled up my stomach. I needed it for the long drive home.
Derik needed another nap. I slipped out and returned to Dolly. It felt good to have spent time with my new loved and lovely grand daughters.
The one hour trip was uneventful. At four o'clock, I played some volleyball at Moonlight Beach until my five thirty train ride back to beautiful San Diego arrived. Now my life had been fulfilled finally. I had never felt so serene. Tonight I loved everybody.
The lyrics to the song are almost finished and the melody is from another song about South Carolina. Sorry reader for this spurt, but I love the San Diego rails. I never know what my mind will hum on a different track.
Today is Christmas Day -- the day Baby Jesus was born. It is the day Jesus was born. I would celebrate it by visiting my two daughters in Belmont Shores, California. The Amtrak eight o'clock special awaited me. This was Christmas. My gifts were Allison and Olivia. Allison would be opening packages for the first time
I left my humble cell at the Broadway 'Y' at about eight o'clock. I had a breakfast of leftover beans, a toasted jam spread, and two seven eleven bleached bananas. I walked over to the Sana Fe Station and heard the #567 bellow, "Merry Xmas George, glad you made it to 74."
My Compass Pass was good on this Amtrak. It took about thirty minutes to arrive at the Encinitas Station where I had parked my car. I followed a line of about fifteen onto a back car. My Coaster pass was my ticket to the Encinitas Commuter parking lot. My little compact Dolly waited for me there.
My car asked me it needed more water and gas. The Vallejo Gas Station took care of her needs, and she jumped on the five towards Long Beach to the beat of a Chopin tape. I arrived there at nine o'[clock and saw the most beautiful sight. I walked across Park Avenue to their dwelling.
A Lovely Olivia pushed her face up against the dining room window. She spotted me and gave me such a smile my legs wilted. Derik opened the door. At the dining room table sat my number one daughter with the three year old, Allison.
A too busy Allison was sucking Mom's bottle milk. Her blue eyes were closed to enjoy the white juice. Then she laid eyes on me. For a few moments, her eyes wavered.
At first, she didn't know what to make of me. Then a genuine smile covered her face and the bottle fell. Olivia, with her brand new blue dress came up to me.
" Grandad, look what I got." She showed me two small figurine horses. "They are beautiful aren't they?"
"This is her first Christmas where Alison would open up her presents. We bought her a bike at Target." replied her Dad Derik.
My daughter and Derik looked exhausted. And they should have been. All Day, My poor daughter had been pumping milk all day. Baby Allison had slept for only two hours at a time.
I went to Main Street for pick up. We had a chicken, rice and a kit more for lunch. I filled up my stomach. I needed it for the long drive home.
Derik needed another nap. I slipped out and returned to Dolly. It felt good to have spent time with my new loved and lovely grand daughters.
The one hour trip was uneventful. At four o'clock, I played some volleyball at Moonlight Beach until my five thirty train ride back to beautiful San Diego arrived. Now my life had been fulfilled finally. I had never felt so serene. Tonight I loved everybody.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
How Buena Park' rides began?
"I enjoyed visiting the Knox family. They lived not far from us in Buena Park as we lived in Anaheim. I just loved to speak with Walter, but it was wife who expanded the berry farm into a lot more. Do you know George, they remained in their little house off the freeways there entire life. His wife was passionate about cleanliness so he had to do all of his work in the rear of the house."
"They turned their berry pies into chicken dinners and later decided to introduce more to their farm. When he built Constitution Hall, his two daughters overruled him. He wished people to enter his farm free of charge. The vote was two to one, and his daughters won out. Like myself, they came from humble beginnings but their berries turned into a thriving business."
Lady Barbara told the above story, like others, while lunching at the Oak Cafe in City of Encinitas. I sat at table 5 and as usual, let her do the talking. My mouth was sore anyhow due to the extraction of my 31 back molar. So I listened, as did Sharon, Ron, Abe, and Thomas -- who had returned from a one month stay at a local hospital.
Today without Horst and his favorite line, "I want to tell you something..." all of us had the opportunity to speak.
'I also knew the family who began the Bob's Big Boy restaurants. The wife went with me anytime I walked a precinct for Republican votes. I supported Christians only. I even had a speaker come to some of my meetings. His name was Welch and he did not charge any money." (Welsh was the founder of the conservative Birth Society.)
"Did you support Dick Nixon?"
"No George, he wasn't a good Christian, not at all."
"Where did you go for your vacations?"
"We went up north and rented a cabin. When our family grew to seven kids, we put up a tent and I did the cooking outside while my kids went fishing. Those days were the best days of my live."
The salad, apple, and main dish of rice and fish were served. Only a few tables spoke today, since their drivers were off for a Christmas Celebration.
This Christmas I began to enjoy myself and tried not to be the center of attention. . I enjoy engaging other in their life stories. And what is life without people, who love people.
"They turned their berry pies into chicken dinners and later decided to introduce more to their farm. When he built Constitution Hall, his two daughters overruled him. He wished people to enter his farm free of charge. The vote was two to one, and his daughters won out. Like myself, they came from humble beginnings but their berries turned into a thriving business."
Lady Barbara told the above story, like others, while lunching at the Oak Cafe in City of Encinitas. I sat at table 5 and as usual, let her do the talking. My mouth was sore anyhow due to the extraction of my 31 back molar. So I listened, as did Sharon, Ron, Abe, and Thomas -- who had returned from a one month stay at a local hospital.
Today without Horst and his favorite line, "I want to tell you something..." all of us had the opportunity to speak.
'I also knew the family who began the Bob's Big Boy restaurants. The wife went with me anytime I walked a precinct for Republican votes. I supported Christians only. I even had a speaker come to some of my meetings. His name was Welch and he did not charge any money." (Welsh was the founder of the conservative Birth Society.)
"Did you support Dick Nixon?"
"No George, he wasn't a good Christian, not at all."
"Where did you go for your vacations?"
"We went up north and rented a cabin. When our family grew to seven kids, we put up a tent and I did the cooking outside while my kids went fishing. Those days were the best days of my live."
The salad, apple, and main dish of rice and fish were served. Only a few tables spoke today, since their drivers were off for a Christmas Celebration.
This Christmas I began to enjoy myself and tried not to be the center of attention. . I enjoy engaging other in their life stories. And what is life without people, who love people.
Monday, December 23, 2013
An Olive Garden Christmas
Mel never looked happier. Food and sports have been his entire life. I had driven down from San Diego to pick him up at the Royal Pacific Assistant Living Apartments. We are at the Huntington Beach Olive Garden on Beach Blvd. He has lived for food his entire life.
As usual, we ordered the spaghetti and all you can eat salad. With the food served, he stuffed his mouth with spaghetti and meat balls, with a regular coke to wash the morsels down.
"Mel, your nose is dripping and under your mouth is a speck of sauce."
"George, can you ask for more bread and salad?" He wiped his nose and removed the sauce from his chin. He dug in for more, more and m-o-r-e.
"Paris, can you bring us more salad and those yummy garlic bread fingers...Guess you read my mind."
Her hands spoke before I uttered the word, "more". Young a lively, she seemed to anticipate our needs. The delightful server went about her work without fanfare or emotion.
You have probably guessed the name of the eatery by now. Beach Street in Huntington Beach is known for their motels, auto lots, and of course: all-you-can-eat-bread-and salad at the Olive Garden Restaurants.
Oh yes, you inquire about the name of Paris? The delightful server went about her work effortlessly without fanfare or commotion.
My brother Mel is almost blind today. It may not have been April in Paris, but this December, it was Christmas at the Olive Garden Restaurant in Huntington Beach.
My day began at the downtown San Diego YMCA. I woke up and wished to shoot myself. Two of my molars had acted up. My stomach growled with food poisoning, and my number 31 tooth screamed, "I want out of here."
Yet bad food and an and an abscessed tooth did not stop me from driving Dolly, my car, to Midway City California. (The little hot dog city is wedged in between the cities of Westminster and Huntington Beach. It has only a few thousand residents.)
Brother Mel has been beached at the Pacific Spartan assistant living center for the past six years. Most of the time he sleeps, but is the first to enter the dining area for his three meals. The only time is when it is food time. I entered his upstairs room at about nine in the morning. Mel rustled out of bed with a big smile on his face.
"Mel, this is your day. We will go to the beach and afterwards the famous Olive Garden restaurant. How has your stomach been?" Mel has had accidents ever since his bladder had been removed. One month earlier, I told him to take pills for his colic stomach.
"I have not had any accidents and feel great." I made sure he wore his diaper and helped his head into my compact Chevy.
We parked on Main and strolled towards the beach. Mel walked slowly and I made sure he did not lose me.
We stayed at the beach for two hours. BJ's restaurant was up ahead but I wished for more, more. m.o.r.e. so we continued east on Beach until we reached the Olive Garden.
I ordered the garlic shrimp appetizer dish wished for spaghetti. Of course I sneaked-in his salad and bread fingers into my plate and repeated the action twice. The salad bowl screamed, "Enough, is enough!"
Mel was almost finished and Paris returned with a bill for our $33 meal, and refilled our coke glasses. She returned with two small packaged mints. I told her to take the two Ben Franklin's and keep the change.
My mood, like always, changes from gloomy to sunny anytime I break bread with brother Mel. Unfortunately, the owner Eddie no longer allows me to eat with him at his apartment. Why his myopic meals are only worth a few bits.
As usual, we ordered the spaghetti and all you can eat salad. With the food served, he stuffed his mouth with spaghetti and meat balls, with a regular coke to wash the morsels down.
"Mel, your nose is dripping and under your mouth is a speck of sauce."
"George, can you ask for more bread and salad?" He wiped his nose and removed the sauce from his chin. He dug in for more, more and m-o-r-e.
"Paris, can you bring us more salad and those yummy garlic bread fingers...Guess you read my mind."
Her hands spoke before I uttered the word, "more". Young a lively, she seemed to anticipate our needs. The delightful server went about her work without fanfare or emotion.
You have probably guessed the name of the eatery by now. Beach Street in Huntington Beach is known for their motels, auto lots, and of course: all-you-can-eat-bread-and salad at the Olive Garden Restaurants.
Oh yes, you inquire about the name of Paris? The delightful server went about her work effortlessly without fanfare or commotion.
My brother Mel is almost blind today. It may not have been April in Paris, but this December, it was Christmas at the Olive Garden Restaurant in Huntington Beach.
My day began at the downtown San Diego YMCA. I woke up and wished to shoot myself. Two of my molars had acted up. My stomach growled with food poisoning, and my number 31 tooth screamed, "I want out of here."
Yet bad food and an and an abscessed tooth did not stop me from driving Dolly, my car, to Midway City California. (The little hot dog city is wedged in between the cities of Westminster and Huntington Beach. It has only a few thousand residents.)
Brother Mel has been beached at the Pacific Spartan assistant living center for the past six years. Most of the time he sleeps, but is the first to enter the dining area for his three meals. The only time is when it is food time. I entered his upstairs room at about nine in the morning. Mel rustled out of bed with a big smile on his face.
"Mel, this is your day. We will go to the beach and afterwards the famous Olive Garden restaurant. How has your stomach been?" Mel has had accidents ever since his bladder had been removed. One month earlier, I told him to take pills for his colic stomach.
"I have not had any accidents and feel great." I made sure he wore his diaper and helped his head into my compact Chevy.
We parked on Main and strolled towards the beach. Mel walked slowly and I made sure he did not lose me.
We stayed at the beach for two hours. BJ's restaurant was up ahead but I wished for more, more. m.o.r.e. so we continued east on Beach until we reached the Olive Garden.
I ordered the garlic shrimp appetizer dish wished for spaghetti. Of course I sneaked-in his salad and bread fingers into my plate and repeated the action twice. The salad bowl screamed, "Enough, is enough!"
Mel was almost finished and Paris returned with a bill for our $33 meal, and refilled our coke glasses. She returned with two small packaged mints. I told her to take the two Ben Franklin's and keep the change.
My mood, like always, changes from gloomy to sunny anytime I break bread with brother Mel. Unfortunately, the owner Eddie no longer allows me to eat with him at his apartment. Why his myopic meals are only worth a few bits.
Saturday, December 21, 2013
San Diego, A Tale of Two Cities.
I left the downtown "Y" upset. I had disconnected with my first born. So after a long 'Y' shower, a removed the cobwebs from my asthmatic body and sailed out of the 1924 historical building.The Blue Line Trolley awaited me at the American Plaza station. It was four shopping days until Christmas and my mind was made up. Until my two daughters let bygones be bygones, I will deport myself downtown.
I crossed over the two way tracks and bumped my Coaster card. The $41 a month card allows me to go on every form of transportation. The Blue was empty except my coffee and me. All trolleys have two heads and the end of the line becomes the beginning once again. The conductor crossed to the other end and unlocked the cab door. After a few minutes, her voice came on.
"We will be going to San Ysidro and the border. You must have a ticket. Remember no smoking or placing your feet on the seats are permitted. You must not drink except when your container is self contained."
My coffee cup pleaded with me to finish the last drops. The train inched forward. A lady and her black dog ran to board but were a bit late. The East sun hit the walls of buildings to the north. Endless tracks of sleeping bags stirred. Their sleepy passengers grabbed their coffees, stroked their beards, and blinked at the nine o'clock sun.
The Blue stopped at Fifth Avenue. The conductor pushed a lever and the lift strutted down to receive a wheel chair. She placed her chair next to the front door, and a few Mexicans boarded. They sat together and their excitement woke me up. Whenever more than two Mexicans gathered , it felt like a soccer match between two Latin countries.
Up ahead at the City College stop on Park Blvd, another wheel chair boarded the Blue. Well groomed wearing a San Diego baseball hat, the conductor hit the lever that lifted him. He rolled his buggy to a disable spot up front.
"Where are you headed," the conductor begged.
"Chula Vista, " he responded
I de-trained at Park and Market. Sleeping bags were along the fence, still asleep. I began to walk the one block to the library. On Saturday, the downtown Library awoke at nine thirty. With a few minutes to spare, I ambled over to the north side of Petco Park. I saw a large red tent. A long line of homeless waited their turn for free coffee, cream and a donuts.
Now at the end of the line, I waited my turn. I am not a stranger to homelessness. A man took my picture, even though I did not say cheese. A man approached me. "I shit in my pants," he said to the man in back. "Do you have any spare underwear?"
After I finished my coffee, I climbed up the library steps. I logged in on a third floor computer. The sweats next to me could not speak any English. Her boy friend tried without any success.
My blogs on Tale will become a book later this year. Merry Xmas to you from Cruisin'George
I crossed over the two way tracks and bumped my Coaster card. The $41 a month card allows me to go on every form of transportation. The Blue was empty except my coffee and me. All trolleys have two heads and the end of the line becomes the beginning once again. The conductor crossed to the other end and unlocked the cab door. After a few minutes, her voice came on.
"We will be going to San Ysidro and the border. You must have a ticket. Remember no smoking or placing your feet on the seats are permitted. You must not drink except when your container is self contained."
My coffee cup pleaded with me to finish the last drops. The train inched forward. A lady and her black dog ran to board but were a bit late. The East sun hit the walls of buildings to the north. Endless tracks of sleeping bags stirred. Their sleepy passengers grabbed their coffees, stroked their beards, and blinked at the nine o'clock sun.
The Blue stopped at Fifth Avenue. The conductor pushed a lever and the lift strutted down to receive a wheel chair. She placed her chair next to the front door, and a few Mexicans boarded. They sat together and their excitement woke me up. Whenever more than two Mexicans gathered , it felt like a soccer match between two Latin countries.
Up ahead at the City College stop on Park Blvd, another wheel chair boarded the Blue. Well groomed wearing a San Diego baseball hat, the conductor hit the lever that lifted him. He rolled his buggy to a disable spot up front.
"Where are you headed," the conductor begged.
"Chula Vista, " he responded
I de-trained at Park and Market. Sleeping bags were along the fence, still asleep. I began to walk the one block to the library. On Saturday, the downtown Library awoke at nine thirty. With a few minutes to spare, I ambled over to the north side of Petco Park. I saw a large red tent. A long line of homeless waited their turn for free coffee, cream and a donuts.
Now at the end of the line, I waited my turn. I am not a stranger to homelessness. A man took my picture, even though I did not say cheese. A man approached me. "I shit in my pants," he said to the man in back. "Do you have any spare underwear?"
After I finished my coffee, I climbed up the library steps. I logged in on a third floor computer. The sweats next to me could not speak any English. Her boy friend tried without any success.
My blogs on Tale will become a book later this year. Merry Xmas to you from Cruisin'George
Friday, December 20, 2013
Another View from Ocean Beach
Today I took the day off to buy a gift for my first grandchild, Olivia Caitlin Willard. No libraries or senior centers for me, I would take the 35 from Old Town and bus it to what I call, "Antique City", or Ocean Beach to you.
I left the downtown 'Y' at about eight thirty and treated myself to the 567 Amtrak train. It would leave the Santa Fe Station at about eight twenty. Riding first class is new to me, so I may as well get used to it. Certain Amtrak's accept Coaster passes or tickets.
The number 35 bus winds from Midway Street to Loma Linda until it deposits me on Cable. Only one restaurant looked busy on the west side. I could hear the others say, "Please come in and have a try. My mind said, "Return to the Wow Restaurant on the Ocean Beach Pier.
Olivia's doll would have to wait. The cold fresh air woke up every cell in my body. I felt like dancing on the mile long OB pier. Three skateboarders screamed past me, even though illegal. Sadie, a large stork peered down from the pier railing. She dared me to come close, which I did. She saw something down below and flew off for her favorite food, sardines.
The few surfers below cussed. The five footers did not break the surfing way. Not-a-one caught a wave today. Even the fishing was bad with only two disgruntled fisherman casting their lines.
I made it to the Wow restaurant towards the end of the pier, and entered inside. I removed the four dollar beany from a market up the street and looked north towards Mission and Pacific Beach. An exited waitress came towards me.
"What would you like to drink", after the usual "Good morning."
"Just water. I am trying to remove caffeine and Gloria from my diet. I wish the burrito but skip the sour cream."
I felt like a fisherman today, while I spread salsa over my burrito. The bill came to seven fifty, but I had saved all month for this re-treat.
"Keep the change, and I'll return for a fish sandwich next time." I walked back and spotted Sadie on a pier rail. Her long beak shook off the remains of a unlucky fish. I left the pier and entered the office of the Ocean Beach office. I tried to extol the virtues of my blog to the lady. The lady inside did not react to my entrance. She bogged my way on her swivel chair, since her blob could never have extricated itself from her crushed office chair.
"Here is a sample of my work and take this business card. The blog gave me a quizzical look while I made haste out of there. It now was going on ten thirty, and I ambled my way to Mallory's antiques for a doll. Something about the store preceding it caught my eye. Antique things and lots of silver caught my eye.
I saw the man inside a cage bargaining with a distraught young lady It appeared she was hustling her silver for cash. I recognized soft spoken Ken while he taught the buyer the fact of buying and selling jewelry.
"I am desperate. I need to pay my rent, and the other day, somebody copped my purse while I had been to the bathroom. It had all of my credit cards and three hundred smackers. My sailor son was with me and I wish to buy him a present also. My ex husband beat the hell out of me and when he wished to make up, he bought me small trinkets made of silver."
Then I remembered. Three years, or thereabout, I had entered this charming man's store. He looked upset, to say the least. He had been robbed and had photos of the men who had raped his store of valuable gems.
I became fascinated as to how he calibrated the sum to pay for each piece of jewelry. He weighed each piece on a small pad and spread some special liquid on each piece. He wished to make sure of the grade of his purchase.
"I think you will like what I will give you. My customers always leave happy. Gold is $1200 an ounce and silver is $20.today. You will not receive less."
"I'll take it, but not the necklace on my neck. That I will keep." She made a phone call and told the manager of her apartment she would return with the balance of the rent. While she was on the phone, I asked Ken--I found out his name later- what time the store would be open to on Christmas Eve.
"We close at three o'clock, but the men swarm in at the last second. They don't wish to feel the wrath of their wives. There is nary any ladies after three. They wait in line for the purchase to make sure their betrothed present them with whatever they wish on the Day of Christmas."
Before I left, he told me to write down the website that captured a picture of the two men who robbed him. Yet I wished to know why he seemed so, so happy. The young gal who ushered me out confessed he had been her husband, and the love of her life for thirty one years. The I knew he was an expert in picking out the finest jewels--of course meaning Mrs. Freeman.
His address is 4926 Newport Ave. and is offering still, a ten thousand dollar reward for information leading to the capture of the robbers on this website: www.z-computerguy.com. The doll I did buy at my last stop at Mallory's. I bought a few other things before I took the number 35 bus back to Old Town.
So if any of you men wish to buy something special, visit the Empire Enterprises.
I left the downtown 'Y' at about eight thirty and treated myself to the 567 Amtrak train. It would leave the Santa Fe Station at about eight twenty. Riding first class is new to me, so I may as well get used to it. Certain Amtrak's accept Coaster passes or tickets.
The number 35 bus winds from Midway Street to Loma Linda until it deposits me on Cable. Only one restaurant looked busy on the west side. I could hear the others say, "Please come in and have a try. My mind said, "Return to the Wow Restaurant on the Ocean Beach Pier.
Olivia's doll would have to wait. The cold fresh air woke up every cell in my body. I felt like dancing on the mile long OB pier. Three skateboarders screamed past me, even though illegal. Sadie, a large stork peered down from the pier railing. She dared me to come close, which I did. She saw something down below and flew off for her favorite food, sardines.
The few surfers below cussed. The five footers did not break the surfing way. Not-a-one caught a wave today. Even the fishing was bad with only two disgruntled fisherman casting their lines.
I made it to the Wow restaurant towards the end of the pier, and entered inside. I removed the four dollar beany from a market up the street and looked north towards Mission and Pacific Beach. An exited waitress came towards me.
"What would you like to drink", after the usual "Good morning."
"Just water. I am trying to remove caffeine and Gloria from my diet. I wish the burrito but skip the sour cream."
I felt like a fisherman today, while I spread salsa over my burrito. The bill came to seven fifty, but I had saved all month for this re-treat.
"Keep the change, and I'll return for a fish sandwich next time." I walked back and spotted Sadie on a pier rail. Her long beak shook off the remains of a unlucky fish. I left the pier and entered the office of the Ocean Beach office. I tried to extol the virtues of my blog to the lady. The lady inside did not react to my entrance. She bogged my way on her swivel chair, since her blob could never have extricated itself from her crushed office chair.
"Here is a sample of my work and take this business card. The blog gave me a quizzical look while I made haste out of there. It now was going on ten thirty, and I ambled my way to Mallory's antiques for a doll. Something about the store preceding it caught my eye. Antique things and lots of silver caught my eye.
I saw the man inside a cage bargaining with a distraught young lady It appeared she was hustling her silver for cash. I recognized soft spoken Ken while he taught the buyer the fact of buying and selling jewelry.
"I am desperate. I need to pay my rent, and the other day, somebody copped my purse while I had been to the bathroom. It had all of my credit cards and three hundred smackers. My sailor son was with me and I wish to buy him a present also. My ex husband beat the hell out of me and when he wished to make up, he bought me small trinkets made of silver."
Then I remembered. Three years, or thereabout, I had entered this charming man's store. He looked upset, to say the least. He had been robbed and had photos of the men who had raped his store of valuable gems.
I became fascinated as to how he calibrated the sum to pay for each piece of jewelry. He weighed each piece on a small pad and spread some special liquid on each piece. He wished to make sure of the grade of his purchase.
"I think you will like what I will give you. My customers always leave happy. Gold is $1200 an ounce and silver is $20.today. You will not receive less."
"I'll take it, but not the necklace on my neck. That I will keep." She made a phone call and told the manager of her apartment she would return with the balance of the rent. While she was on the phone, I asked Ken--I found out his name later- what time the store would be open to on Christmas Eve.
"We close at three o'clock, but the men swarm in at the last second. They don't wish to feel the wrath of their wives. There is nary any ladies after three. They wait in line for the purchase to make sure their betrothed present them with whatever they wish on the Day of Christmas."
Before I left, he told me to write down the website that captured a picture of the two men who robbed him. Yet I wished to know why he seemed so, so happy. The young gal who ushered me out confessed he had been her husband, and the love of her life for thirty one years. The I knew he was an expert in picking out the finest jewels--of course meaning Mrs. Freeman.
His address is 4926 Newport Ave. and is offering still, a ten thousand dollar reward for information leading to the capture of the robbers on this website: www.z-computerguy.com. The doll I did buy at my last stop at Mallory's. I bought a few other things before I took the number 35 bus back to Old Town.
So if any of you men wish to buy something special, visit the Empire Enterprises.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
When Sebastian Met Bella, Dog Story part two
When we last left Lady Barbara, she spoke about how Sebastian would not allow Bella to get in front of her to greet the mailman. Today, the Nineteenth of December at the Oak Cafe, she added to the love story of two German Shepherds. Lady Barbara has always been interested in German Shepherds ever since she saw a farmer using the dogs to keep his sheep in line back as a kid in Highland Park.
A half-rain fell on Encinitas this morning, but far too much cold for one weighing not more than fifty pounds. Barbara wore a long fur coat for our daily lunch at the Encinitas Senior Center.
Lunch is served at eleven o'clock. At table five sit Gregorio, Abraham, Ron, Horst and of course me. I named her lady Barbara when research proved she had been related to Maud, the mother of Catherine Parr. Parr was the sixth wife of Henry the Eighth and was smart enough to "keep her head" as she told me.
All of us at table five love to listen to her dog stories. This lunch I asked her to tell another dog story. Her husband Jay, Vice President of Bechtel, also loved to raise German Shepherds.
"One day Bella did not return home. I had no idea what had happened to her. Earlier I had taken the two dogs for a walk around our two acres. . Sebastian made sure he placed his scent everywhere to remind others to keep away. Our next door neighbor owned 20 acres of a Avocado orchard. Barney fell in love with Bella.
"Bella always waited for Barney since he brought a bone or a piece of first grade meat. I had no idea what had happened to her. Why German Shepards never stray from their home, but this time she did."
"The next day I found the answer. Barney met us again like always at our fence. He told us where Bella had been. 'Barbara, you will never guess what Bella did yesterday. I had slept in and when I awoke, there was your dog with its nose perched on my bedroom window. Bella kept her eyes on me until I had climbed out of bed and given her a kiss with a bone. Then she dogged her way home.'"
In case some of you are tired of the dog story, allow me to interrupt to acquaint you with the story teller. Lady Barbara. I call her Lady Barbara because her Father's last name was McDowell. The name of Edward McDowell might mean nothing to you, but his ancestry goes back to the Greene Family. The Greene family not only had owned a good part of Northern England, but a Katherine Parr became the Sixth wife of Henry the Eighth.
She now digs in with the love story about her two German shepherds. "I will never forget when Bella passed away. She was thirteen, the average age for her breed to go to doggy heaven. My husband had fallen fast asleep in our home in La Harbra. The milkman left two bottles of milk and a quart of ice cream. Something was amiss. Bella did not greet our mailman with her friendly doggy kiss, or lick.
"I found Bella and Sebastian lying together. Sebastian sniffed and doggedly tried to awaken her. Bella did not budge. We called the vet and it took all of my might to keep Sebastian from biting him. Bella was sacked and taken away."
Sebastian would not eat-not even the prime left overs.He whined and whimpered. A few days passed and we could not find Sebastian. We circled our two acres. Billy, my youngest found him in the exact spot where Bella sat to wait for Barney. Billy ran up to me crying. At fifteen, Sebastian joined the love of his life in doggy heaven.
For those who wish to know about Barbara, you can meet her at the Encinitas Senior Center during lunch time. She bore a litter of seven children, and they are still alive. She will celebrate Christmas with her family in San Clemente.
Lady Barbara stories will last as long as kids don't forget how to read. My passion is to write her story, "Lunch Time with Lady Barbara." It is a shame we met late in life. Unlike my last girl friend, she dotes on me, plays a divine piano, and her bony legs still do the waltz.
The writer has to go now. He has a story about his number 31 tooth, recently extracted. Keep reading.
.
A half-rain fell on Encinitas this morning, but far too much cold for one weighing not more than fifty pounds. Barbara wore a long fur coat for our daily lunch at the Encinitas Senior Center.
Lunch is served at eleven o'clock. At table five sit Gregorio, Abraham, Ron, Horst and of course me. I named her lady Barbara when research proved she had been related to Maud, the mother of Catherine Parr. Parr was the sixth wife of Henry the Eighth and was smart enough to "keep her head" as she told me.
All of us at table five love to listen to her dog stories. This lunch I asked her to tell another dog story. Her husband Jay, Vice President of Bechtel, also loved to raise German Shepherds.
"One day Bella did not return home. I had no idea what had happened to her. Earlier I had taken the two dogs for a walk around our two acres. . Sebastian made sure he placed his scent everywhere to remind others to keep away. Our next door neighbor owned 20 acres of a Avocado orchard. Barney fell in love with Bella.
"Bella always waited for Barney since he brought a bone or a piece of first grade meat. I had no idea what had happened to her. Why German Shepards never stray from their home, but this time she did."
"The next day I found the answer. Barney met us again like always at our fence. He told us where Bella had been. 'Barbara, you will never guess what Bella did yesterday. I had slept in and when I awoke, there was your dog with its nose perched on my bedroom window. Bella kept her eyes on me until I had climbed out of bed and given her a kiss with a bone. Then she dogged her way home.'"
In case some of you are tired of the dog story, allow me to interrupt to acquaint you with the story teller. Lady Barbara. I call her Lady Barbara because her Father's last name was McDowell. The name of Edward McDowell might mean nothing to you, but his ancestry goes back to the Greene Family. The Greene family not only had owned a good part of Northern England, but a Katherine Parr became the Sixth wife of Henry the Eighth.
She now digs in with the love story about her two German shepherds. "I will never forget when Bella passed away. She was thirteen, the average age for her breed to go to doggy heaven. My husband had fallen fast asleep in our home in La Harbra. The milkman left two bottles of milk and a quart of ice cream. Something was amiss. Bella did not greet our mailman with her friendly doggy kiss, or lick.
"I found Bella and Sebastian lying together. Sebastian sniffed and doggedly tried to awaken her. Bella did not budge. We called the vet and it took all of my might to keep Sebastian from biting him. Bella was sacked and taken away."
Sebastian would not eat-not even the prime left overs.He whined and whimpered. A few days passed and we could not find Sebastian. We circled our two acres. Billy, my youngest found him in the exact spot where Bella sat to wait for Barney. Billy ran up to me crying. At fifteen, Sebastian joined the love of his life in doggy heaven.
For those who wish to know about Barbara, you can meet her at the Encinitas Senior Center during lunch time. She bore a litter of seven children, and they are still alive. She will celebrate Christmas with her family in San Clemente.
Lady Barbara stories will last as long as kids don't forget how to read. My passion is to write her story, "Lunch Time with Lady Barbara." It is a shame we met late in life. Unlike my last girl friend, she dotes on me, plays a divine piano, and her bony legs still do the waltz.
The writer has to go now. He has a story about his number 31 tooth, recently extracted. Keep reading.
.
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